


Check, Please! Inbox Fics

by birlcholtz (justwhatialwayswanted)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, but they're fluffy in general bc that's who i am as a person, listen this is gonna hit a hell of a lot of aus and tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwhatialwayswanted/pseuds/birlcholtz
Summary: OMGCP fics cross-posted from my Tumblr that are not Parsom (since those have their own compilation).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holsom First Kiss + Accidentally Saving the Day

Ransom is mentally running through a list of ways to reject this girl. Classes have barely been in session for two weeks— he should be riding the high that always comes at the very beginning of the school year and disappears the day of his first major test, not awkwardly standing right outside the lab wondering how he’s going to get himself out of this one.

“Sorry, I’m just really busy,” he says. “With hockey. And classes.”

“I’ll bring my notes, we can study,” she says. 

Fuck.

“I really just don’t have time right now,” Ransom says, and he’s about to add something else, probably another ‘sorry’, when he hears a familiar voice.

“Hey, Rans, pumpkin spice lattes are back,” Holster says, just slightly too loudly, and then he thrusts a to-go cup into Ransom’s hand. Once Ransom accepts the cup, Holster slings his newly beverage-free arm around his shoulder. “I thought your class ended, why are you waiting outside the lab? Unless you psychically knew I was bringing you coffee. But if you psychically knew I was bringing you coffee then you would also psychically know that if you weren’t here I would just text you and ask where you were.” He drinks some of his own PSL. “Okay, it’s officially fall. Are you taking that class too?” That’s addressed to the girl— Melissa, Ransom thinks, and he literally doesn’t even know her name for sure so why the fuck is she— anyway. 

Maybe-Melissa nods and says, “Actually, uh, I just remembered I needed to go call my sister, so I’m gonna go do that now. Bye.”

She vanishes down the hall so fast that Ransom is only half sure she actually walked instead of just disappearing into thin air. When he’s sure she’s gone, he says, “God, I could kiss you right now.”

Holster just looks confused, and then he says slowly, “Because of the pumpkin spice latte?”

“Because of, uh, Melissa? I think her name’s Melissa. She would not leave me alone until you got here.”

“Oh. Yikes.”

They walk back to the Haus in silence, drinking their lattes, until Holster says suddenly, “You know, if you  _ had _ kissed me, I would be chill about it.”

Ransom quickly establishes that there are a lot of ways to respond to that and he doesn’t know which one to take so he’s going to go for the subtle redirection of the conversation. “I mean, you know I’m bi, but I’ve never actually kissed a guy.”

“Oh, yeah, I get that. It’s just if you did.”

“Yeah.” They walk along in silence for a little while longer, and then Ransom says, without really consciously deciding to, “It would be cool to just get it over with, though.”

“Huh?”

This idea is gaining steam in Ransom’s brain. “I mean, because you remember how Bitty was straight up terrified of going on dates freshman year because he’d never kissed anyone? It’s like that.”

“You’ve kissed tons of people.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s different with guys? You know calm rationality is not usually the way my brain goes.”

“Oh, yeah, good point.” Holster considers it. “I mean, yeah, if you want to get it over with, I’ll help out.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. So, like, now, or...”

“Up to you.”

“Okay.” And then before he changes his mind, he leans in and kisses Holster and it’s— 

It’s nothing like he’d expected. For one thing, his brain isn’t being completely dominated by the taste of pumpkin spice, although that’s probably just because they’re both drinking the same thing, so he’s not noticing as much. And for another... it’s good.

It’s really good.

Massachusetts isn’t cold enough yet for Ransom to really feel a chill, but he feels like even if he did, it would vanish the instant his lips made contact with Holster’s. And if he tries, he can detect the pumpkin spice, although part of that is because he can smell it wafting out of their cups. 

He doesn’t have any prior experiences to compare to, but Ransom is pretty sure this will rate highly.

When they break apart and open their eyes, the first thing Ransom notices is that they are very close together, close enough that it’s honestly a miracle their coffee cups didn’t get squished.

“So,” he says.

“So,” Holster replies.

Neither of them look away for a long second, and then Ransom says, “That was fun.”

And Holster laughs and says, “Let’s go back to the Haus, I still haven’t told Bitty that Annie’s has pumpkin spice again.” He slings his arm back around Ransom’s shoulders, but it feels different that time, or maybe it’s Ransom who feels different, or both. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roommates + fake dating + zimbits

On the one hand, Bitty loves the fact that the team just doubled the number of beds per bedroom in the Haus. Sure, it doesn’t seem quite as luxurious as the individual rooms, but it means that even more people can fit in the Haus and that means a couple of things:

First of all, he has far more people nearby to make go to Stop ‘n Shop and buy him butter.

Second of all, there are many, many people around who are perfectly willing to hang out with him, which means as long as he doesn’t  _ tell _ them that he needs to do homework, he has a house full of willing accomplices in procrastination.

Unfortunately, the second thing doesn’t work on Jack.

He and Jack weren’t even supposed to be roommates— in the Hausing lottery, Bitty had been assigned to share with Wicks, but then Ollie asked to switch so he could be with Wicks and Bitty is pretty sure they’re together or at least FWB and he definitely doesn’t want to be sexiled so he said yes.  And now here he is sharing a room with Jack.

Usually they don’t get in each other’s way; as long as Bitty plays his music quietly, they make it work. But Jack has a pretty much perfect bullshit detector when it comes to how much work Bitty is avoiding, and part of that may be due to the fact that it’s just impossible to make eye contact with Jack and lie to him, and part of it is probably witchcraft of some sort.

But they make it work.

The day Jack gets a letter is a day of note in the Haus, because the only physical mail they ever get are catalogues (for many things, among them clothes, kitchenware, and fishing supplies) and bills. However, Jack is working on his thesis and refuses to come downstairs to accept the letter in a grand ceremony Shitty wants to improvise, so Bitty is tasked with bringing the letter to Jack since it is, after all, also his room.

“Ugh,” Jack says upon opening it.

That’s unusual. “What?”

“I’m invited to my cousin’s wedding.”

“Do you not like your cousin?”

“I like him, but my aunt is convinced I’m dating Kent Parson, and every time I see her she interrogates me to try and get me to confirm it.”

“Why does she think that?”

Jack sighs through his nose. “She thinks we’ve been going steady since the Q.” He doesn’t answer the question, but Bitty knows how close Jack was to Parson then, so it makes sense.

“Can you just tell her you’re not? Like, I don’t know, say you broke up, or that you’re dating someone else.”

“I don’t think she would believe me.”

Bitty flops down on his own bed, because it sounds like this is a problem worthy of letting Bitty procrastinate on everything else and that fact alone is definitely worth some attention. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t believe me about not dating Kent Parson now, so how would I convince her? It’s not like I can make a significant other materialize out of thin air.” Jack puts the card on his desk and tosses the envelope into the trash. “I usually just endure it. It’s not like I see her that often, anyway.”

“I mean, you don’t have to make someone materialize, just ask someone to go with you and pretend. If the food is good I’m sure they’ll agree.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up. “Or is that just specific to you?”

“I am nobly ignoring your attempts to chirp me.”

“You just acknowledged them. And they’re not  _ attempts, _ they’re  _ successes.” _

“Are not.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.”

“I win.”

“Fuck.” Jack drums his fingers on his desk and says, “Still not getting into this with you despite you baiting me.”

“Who says ‘despite’?”

“I do.”

“Fair point.”

Jack frowns, which is an unusual expression for him when Bitty has just confirmed he’s right about something. “Can you go?”

“Huh?”

“To the wedding.” Bitty must look nonplussed, because Jack says, “I mean, we’re used to sharing a room, and I would ask Shitty but he’s really stressed with applying to law schools and everything and I don’t think an event with free alcohol would be good for him.”

And those are all excellent points, but this is  _ Jack. _ Bitty is genuinely not sure he can make it through the wedding pretending to date Jack while still maintaining his composure and dignity. Add that to the fact that Jack went through that whole conversation they just had about Kent Parson without a single ‘no homo’, and frankly Bitty is not in the right emotional state to do this.

“I’ll buy you Annie’s for a week,” Jack says, and fuck it, Bitty is sold.

“Okay, I’ll accept your bribe and do it. But only for the food.”

“And the Annie’s.”

“I’m counting that.”

It’s really a good thing that Bitty and Jack are roommates, because they automatically have a place to practice faking couple-dom. 

“Okay, first question,” Bitty says. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, and Jack is mirroring him on the other side of the room. “How long is this whole thing? Like, is it a whole weekend? Is it a morning thing? Evening thing?”

“Evening, but we’re invited to the rehearsal dinner, so it’s pretty much the whole weekend.”

“Okay. Next question, are we going to be faking to your parents or telling them?”

“Uh, my dad is not good at keeping secrets.”

“Faking. Okay. Will people be speaking French?”

Jack furrows his brow. “I mean, some people probably will be, but the wedding’s in New York. It’s my mom’s side.”

“Thank the Lord. And the next question is, can you dance?”

“If I say no, does it mean I don’t have to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I cannot at all. And that’s the truth.”

“That’s honestly what I expected.”

“Rude.”

“Well, anyway, we won’t dance, then. That’s good, that means we don’t have to practice that.”

And so the plan is born. They won’t tell anyone, not even Jack’s parents, and they won’t bother explaining the whole situation to the rest of the team because Shitty will insist he’s doing fine and then they’ll have to deal with that. They’ll practice a relatively subtle level of PDA, because it’s not like it’s  _ their _ wedding, and there will be absolutely no dancing.

They start with just being in each other’s space. The team is not big on personal space as a whole, but this is different— sitting next to each other, touching from knee to shoulder, leaning on each other, that sort of thing. And then handholding, which Bitty needs to practice a lot because it messes with his head and his composure and both of those are unacceptable.

He has no idea how he’s going to function when they get to kissing. More importantly, he has no idea how he’s going to conceal this irritatingly persistent crush. He thought it would fade away after a week or so (and to be honest he had fully expected it to happen at some point), but that... is not what is happening. Instead, Bitty’s heart does physical activity ranging from a flutter to intense aerobics every time they touch, and frankly this is not sustainable.

But he can’t back out. Jack really does need him to do this. Bitty can see how whenever Jack’s gaze lands on the invitation, which is still lying on his desk, he tenses up a little, and Bitty has the feeling that there’s more that Jack isn’t saying. 

But that’s none of his business.

He muddles his way through couple practice fairly well, for a while. Jack has made a calendar (because of course he has) detailing their schedule and when they progress from one level to another. It’s endearing, and the fact that it’s endearing instead of annoying is pissing Bitty off.

Day One of kissing takes place a week before the wedding, because Bitty has asserted that he needs time to get used to it and Jack has agreed. Thank heavens for small favors. Except that just means that he’s going to spend even more time kissing Jack and— well, Bitty is just not thinking about that.

He determinedly not-thinks about it until the day of, when they’re sitting in their room facing each other and Jack says, “Ready?”

And Bitty says, “Yeah,” because waiting longer will not help at all. He just needs to do it, and then he can get used to it and it won’t be an issue at the wedding.

And then Jack kisses him and Bitty becomes immediately aware that it will definitely be an issue for him personally, because honestly?

Kissing Jack feels  _ right, _ which is fucking terrifying and definitely not what should be happening. Because Bitty has been secretly hoping all this time that when they get to this part, it’ll just feel awkward and silly and he can finally let go of this stupid crush. But instead it feels comfortable, simple in the way that making a crumble is simple, and Bitty definitely should not have gone with the crumble comparison because now he’s coming up with all sorts of figurative language that incorporates sugar and dessert and just overwhelmingly unnecessary ideas.

_ I can’t fake this, _ Bitty thinks, and then he pulls away, or Jack does, because he doesn’t consciously decide to do it but it still happens, and then he opens his eyes and looks at Jack, who...

Who doesn’t seem any more coherent than Bitty, and Bitty has no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

They just look at each other for a minute, or maybe two, and then Jack looks away and says, “This isn’t fair.”

“Huh?” Bitty says, because he genuinely has no idea what Jack is talking about.

“This,” Jack says. “Fake dating. I mean—” he sighs. “It’s not fair to you, because you just agreed to do it as a favor to me. I should have stopped it when I—” And he stops.

Bitty waits, because it’s clear that Jack is going to say something, and the last thing he wants to do is mess that up by saying something.

“When I asked you to help me, I was being honest,” Jack says. “I really just needed a friend to help me get through this weekend. And then I thought... I just thought, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve dated anybody so I’m just reacting to that but... that’s not what happened. I guess...” He pauses, takes a breath, then says, “It’s not fair to you because I’ve been letting you think I’m just in this to get my aunt off my back, when I... I really want this to be not fake.”

“Oh,” Bitty says. And then he says, “Oh, God, that is so noble of you, because I was just going to not say anything for the rest of my life and bottle everything up until I died, but... I want this to be not fake, too.”

Jack looks back at him in surprise, and then whatever he sees on Bitty’s face must convince him that Bitty is being genuine, because he says, “Okay.”

They make eye contact for a long moment before Bitty feels himself starting to laugh. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Holding on to a semi-straight face is a challenge, but it’s worth it, because Jack starts smiling too, and then he laughs, and then Bitty can’t help but laugh too, and their second kiss is, if possible, even better than their first.

The wedding is lovely.

Bitty isn’t really sure of what the bride and groom’s names are (they introduced themselves at the rehearsal dinner, but by the time the hors d’oeuvres were served at the reception, those names had flown out of Bitty’s head), but they seem nice, and they put on a damn good wedding, so as far as Bitty is concerned they’re excellent people.

Also, the food is really good.

They still have to lie about how long they’ve been together, because Jack RSVP’d a while ago, but compared to lying about being together, it’s a piece of cake. 

Bitty expresses that out loud (but quietly) to Jack, who says, “Literally.”

“You’re holding a macaron, not a piece of cake.”

“Close enough.”

They also do a very good job of not dancing— they talk to various family members during the fast songs, and shamelessly raid the desserts during the slow songs, and maybe a quarter of the guests have left when a very familiar song begins.

“Okay, I know we said no dancing, but I’m changing both of our minds,” Bitty says, standing up. “Come on, it’s a slow song, you don’t have to do anything.”

Jack lets himself be pulled up from his chair, and then he says, “Is this... Beyonce?”

“Yeah, that’s why we have to dance, come  _ on.” _

Jack just laughs and goes with him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 + 100 for zimbits (coffee shop AU + accidentally saving the day)

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but flat whites aren’t on our menu,” Bitty says for the nth time. “They were created by Starbucks, they’re not a standard drink in the same way a latte or a cappuccino is. We can make something similar for you if you tell us what’s in the drink, but otherwise, we just can’t make one. Starbucks doesn’t release their recipes to other coffeeshops.”

The woman opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, the door to the break room flies open and Jack storms out, walking right past the baristas making drinks and all the way over to the register.

Lovely.

“Bittle, we need more packaging for the muffin bites and you’re the only one who knows what we order,” he says. “I’ll take over here.”

Bitty tries not to let his ‘oh thank God’ show on his face too much as he happily leaves Jack to deal with the woman. As he speedwalks toward the break room, he hears Jack say, “We don’t make those,” and then, “I am the manager on duty,” and he walks even faster.

When the door closes completely behind him, he says, “Jack just saved my ass.”

“From what?” Lardo says from where she’s fixing the sign they usually put out on the sidewalk (little kids plus easily smudged chalk do not make a match in heaven). “Excessive customer bullshit?”

“Yeah. I swear, we need to start handing out FAQs. He said he’d take over for me and I didn’t look back once.”

“What did he send you back here for, anyway?”

“Packaging for the muffin bites.”

“Oh. They’re over there.” And she points to what is very obviously a new shipment of packaging.

That Bitty did not order.

“Uh...”

“What?”

“He told me we needed to order more,” Bitty says.

Lardo shrugs. “Weird. Maybe he just felt the aura of someone who was about to ask for the manager and he decided to get a head start.”

“Maybe,” Bitty says slowly. It definitely makes sense. But then why bother to make up a reason to send Bitty back here?

He files it away as just one of many Strange Things Jack Does, writes down the precise name and type of packaging they buy (just in case), and helps Lardo clean up the chalk and put the new sign outside. 

When they come back into the shop, Jack is still behind the register, since the line has only gotten longer, and that woman is sipping something out of a mug and looking quite happy about it. Lardo salutes Jack as they walk by, and Jack looks up with his customary blank face but then he smiles at them, and Bitty smiles back and thinks,  _ So he can be nice. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have since been enlightened to the origin of flat whites and they actually sound rlly good but this is the way i wrote the fic so i'm leaving it this way lol (they're from NZ/Australia if ur like me and didnt know)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 + 41 for charmer (summer camp + first kiss)

The best thing about Caitlin’s job is the free s’mores.

There are too many campers for them to have one big campfire, but each cabin gets their own small one on Friday nights, and they roast marshmallows and make s’mores, and then when the campers go to bed Caitlin stays by the fire to make sure it goes out without spreading and catching anything else on fire. And, well, there are plenty of s’mores ingredients left, and she may as well have a good time watching a fire die down.

Chris always comes by to collect the food and bring it back to the dining hall, and that’s when she goes into her cabin, but more often than not they each make at least one final s’more before Caitlin gives up the marshmallows. So she gets a lot of free s’mores. She could probably be paid in the ingredients.

Tonight, she’s running low on marshmallows (her campers managed to figure out a way to roast the marshmallows faster, so they managed to inhale a lot more s’mores before lights out), so depending on when Chris gets here, she might not have anything to give back to him. Oh, well. It happens. 

There are three marshmallows left in the bag and Caitlin is debating how much chocolate she wants on the next one when she sees Chris— or more accurately, she sees Chris’s flashlight, and then the rest of him comes into view.

“Hey,” she says quietly, taking her next marshmallow out, and when he gets close enough she offers him the bag. “We don’t have that many left, and I’ve already had a ton, so if you want to take the last one too, go for it.”

“Oh, I can’t do that, they’re your marshmallows,” Chris says, sitting down on a rock next to her. He takes a marshmallow out, then looks at the single one left in the bag. “We should split it. It’s kind of pitiful to just leave one marshmallow.”

“Yeah, exactly.” They keep their voices low, because the campers are supposed to be sleeping and talking too loud would both keep them awake and prevent Caitlin from hearing if any of them are up and about. “How was today?” Chris is in charge of kayaking on the lake, which requires both energy and the ability to watch a lot of moving objects at once.

“Pretty good. A couple of the kids went further out than they should’ve— you know that area with a lot of rocks and stuff under the surface?” When she nods, he continues. “Yeah, they didn’t get stuck, but they were close enough to scrape on something. It was some of the older kids, though, so they’re pretty good at turning around and stuff. Nothing to worry about. You?”

“Yeah, pretty good. I mean, volleyball is pretty safe by comparison, but I guess people could always get hit in the face or something. We did a three-on-three tournament and I wish I’d thought of it earlier, because they seemed like they were having fun.” Her marshmallow is roasted now, so Caitlin slides it onto the graham cracker, but the chocolate still needs to melt. “I mean, there’s always next year, and maybe I can do one tomorrow morning before the parents come.”

“Yeah.” Chris’s marshmallow is done too, but he doesn’t wait to melt the chocolate before taking a bite. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“Me neither. Are you coming back next year?” Her s’more is ready, so Caitlin takes a bite, and then she takes another one that happens to be big enough to finish the s’more, because she’s not elegant and the graham cracker pieces aren’t  _ that _ big.

“Yeah, definitely. You are, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool,” he says. “Wouldn’t be the same without you. We should finish these marshmallows.”

“Okay. Game plan. Are we making one s’more and then breaking it in half?”

“Works for me.”

Caitlin takes charge of roasting the marshmallow as Chris prepares the graham cracker and chocolate. They watch it brown in a comfortable silence— it’s cooling off, but they’re close enough to the fire and each other that Caitlin’s not cold yet.

Finally, the marshmallow is ready, and she slides it onto the graham cracker, and Chris breaks the s’more neatly along the dotted line down the middle of the cracker.

“I can’t believe you don’t let the chocolate melt,” Caitlin says.

He shrugs. “There are just some places in my life where I’m not willing to delay gratification. Like s’mores. And... yeah, all the other examples I can think of are food.”

“Huh.” Caitlin watches the fire— the glow is starting to fade. They timed it just right. They’ve spent a whole summer perfecting this final s’more, so it makes sense. “I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“Have I been imagining it?”

When Chris speaks, it’s slow. “Imagining what?”

“That there’s... there’s something going on between us.”

He’s quiet for a few heartbeats, and then he says softly, “I thought I was imagining it.”

The fire is getting really low now, and it occurs to Caitlin that she’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt at night in the Santa Cruz mountains, but she is determined not to go into her cabin until they get this figured out. “So... I’m not?”

“You’re not.”

The fire is still mesmerising, but she pulls her gaze away from it to look at Chris. Only one side of his face is lit by the fire, because he’s looking directly at her. 

Caitlin scoots closer, and then, without really deciding to, leans in. 

His lips are sticky from the marshmallow, and hers definitely are too, and she can taste chocolate and sugar. She’s dimly aware that the light on her closed eyelids from the fire is fading even more, but somehow it doesn’t seem relevant. And most of all she feels warm, right down to the tips of her toes, and Caitlin’s feet are  _ always _ cold, but that doesn’t seem to be the case now.

She’s  _ really _ glad that they’re both coming back next summer. Although she’s pretty sure that even if they weren’t, they’d figure out a way to make it work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 + 40 for nurseydex (detective AU + almost kiss)
> 
> this actually didn't turn out that shippy which is why i tagged it w & instead of /

When he’d been paired with Will Poindexter to deal with the muggings, Derek had immediately thought,  _ This will not end well. _

Honestly, they should never have been paired together. Both he and Will are, uh,  _ creative _ with procedure, but at notoriously different points. Derek’s more of an intuition guy than his partners would prefer when it comes to gathering information, and Will, well...

Maybe Will’s creativity is best demonstrated by the plan they’re currently executing.

(“Let’s get mugged,” he’d said when they were working out a plan.

“That does  _ not _ sound like my idea of a good time. And I’m not supposed to let you put yourself in danger of physical harm since you got stabbed, remember?”

Will had set his jaw, stared Derek straight in the eye, and said, “No.”)

So now they’re walking down the street late at night, looking as physically un-intimidating as they can, because for all that this is a bad idea, Derek doesn’t have a better one.

All of a sudden, he spots two figures not far away, and nudges Will, whispering, “That looks to me like a golden opportunity.”

Will glances at them subtly. There’s a young man who looks like a college student, and someone dressed in all black with a hood up, backing him into a corner. “Are you sure it’s them?”

“Yes.”

Will squints a little. “I’m not convinced, we’re not close enough.”

“Well, I don’t see a good way to get closer without the guy leaving.”

“We just have to make it obvious we’re not paying any attention to them.” He frowns. “We could act drunk?”

“Drunk people can still call the police.”

“Stage a fight?”

“Too distracting. We’ll miss them.”

“Make out?”

“Ditto.”

“Ugh. You’re right.” Will sighs. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“Just keep getting closer and once—” Derek sees a silver gleam flick into existence from the shadowy person’s hand. “That knife is  _ so _ not legal, just get out your badge.”

“On it.”

Derek gets his own badge out as well and they start moving. “And don’t get stabbed again.”

“No promises.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 + 53 for holsom (dance AU + mutual pining)

Justin hadn’t realized it at the time, but when Eric asked if he was able to take over teaching a ballet class at Eric’s studio (he normally taught all the non-pointe classes, but he just hated getting up early on Saturdays), it was the beginning of a change in his life.

The early morning Saturday class (it’s not  _ that _ early— nine-thirty is very reasonable) is the intermediate girls: good dancers, but not quite old enough to start pointe yet. Eric gave Justin all his notes, so teaching the class isn’t hard, and he has Mandy and Jenny, two of the advanced pointe girls, as TAs (they alternate weeks).

No, the hard part is the tap/jazz instructor, Adam. 

Because here’s the thing. Adam isn’t hard to deal with— he doesn’t blast the music for his jazz students too loudly, and he never runs late or messes up the schedule for who gets which room. He’s great.

He’s a little too great. Because he suggests warming up together before each of their classes start, and when Justin agrees, he learns that Adam is also incredibly funny, probably the best tapper Justin has ever encountered, all-around a great person, and has wire-rimmed glasses that should make him look ridiculous but instead just make him look extremely intelligent (and, okay, Justin is very into intelligence).

And overall Justin is fucked.

His crush on Adam won’t go away; on the contrary, it’s getting worse the more they hang out with each other, and that’s not exactly something Justin can do anything about, since Adam seems to genuinely consider him a friend and Justin can’t just cut off a friend because he has an unfortunate crush on them.

Whatever. He’s resigned to it. Nothing will happen between them, and then Adam will have to switch the classes he teaches or something and they’ll hardly ever see each other and then all of a sudden he’ll realize he hasn’t spoken to or seen Adam in several weeks and that will be that.

So Justin tries to take all those emotions and stick them in a box, but they’re very good at worming their way back out whenever he sees Adam. His stomach will flip and he’ll try to keep doing whatever he was doing, but his mind is somewhere else. Once he was tying his shoe when Adam finished his class and came over to talk to him, and they talked for at least ten minutes before Adam pointed out that Justin was still tying slip knots in his laces.

He’ll get better at the box with practice. (Something that he apparently also needs to apply to tying his shoes.)

Eric comes by and helps Justin evaluate the class, and almost everyone is approved to advance and begin pointe, and the couple who aren’t spend hours at the studio as soon as their summer break starts— a couple of weeks later, Justin asks Eric to drop by again, and they agree that the girls can advance.

That’s good timing, because Justin’s new job starts in under two weeks.

He’d taken time off of dancing professionally, mostly because of the rehearsal schedule and the toll it took on him. Justin is a perfectionist, a fact that surprises absolutely no one, and he knows better than all of his friends that a rough season can send him down the wrong mental path. But he’s been itching to get back into it, and he’s honestly really excited to start with his new company. 

He hasn’t told Adam yet. 

He’s  _ meant _ to. He’s walked into their morning warm-up sessions thinking,  _ Okay, today, I will not leave without telling him. _ But then Adam bursts into the room in a rush of cheerfulness and energy, and Justin can’t find it in him to say anything.

When he mentions that to Eric— just casually, because he hasn’t told Eric anything about his crush— Eric raises one eyebrow and says, in a tone that implies he thinks Justin is being obtuse, “Why not?”

Justin fumbles. “Well, I don’t want to mess up the routine we have.”

“Honey, he won’t be upset with you for going professional again. It’s a good move for you. And it’s not like you’re leaving the city. You just won’t be teaching here anymore.”

“It turns out to be the same thing. I mean, I only ever see him here.”

“So you aren’t— Nevermind. Look, I mean it, he’ll understand. I think you know that too. Adam’s a good guy.”

“Yeah.” And then it’s time for him to go so he can make it to lunch with his sister, so he says, “Bye.”

“Bye,” Eric says as he types something out on his phone.

 

(What Justin doesn’t see, and never will except in retellings of this whole story, is the conversations between Adam and Eric about Justin. He  _ will _ see the text Eric sends later on, though.)

Justin is running a little late next Saturday, and when he gets to the studio, Adam is already there. 

That’s good. That means he can do what Adam does so often— namely, walk in and immediately say whatever is on his mind. 

He opens the door and says, “I’m not teaching anymore after next week.”

Adam takes a second to bring his leg down from the barre before he says, “Oh.” He doesn’t turn around. And then, “Why not?”

“That’s when rehearsals for the new season start. I joined a company.”

“Oh,” Adam says again, and then he says, “Congratulations!” and he brings his other leg up to the barre. “What’s the first production?”

“ _ Sleeping Beauty. _ ”

“Send me the season info, I’ll come see it. I love that one.”

That’s... that’s really good.

It’s about ten minutes later when Adam says out of the blue, “Now I know what Eric meant when he told me to stop procrastinating.”

“Huh?” Justin says, because he’s focusing on his left shoulder, which is tight today because he slept weirdly. 

“Well, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for, like, weeks now, but I keep not doing it, because, you know, that shit is hard.” When Justin nods (faintly, because he’s still processing), Adam says, “So, like... if you’re interested, do you want to go out sometime?”

Justin finds himself smiling. “Yeah, that would be great.”

(Later, Adam shows him the text from Eric. It says, ‘buddy u need to stop procrastinating and get ur ass in gear’. The time stamp is from right after that conversation Justin and Eric had. Justin’s never seen or heard Eric call someone ‘buddy’ before, but somehow, it seems perfectly appropriate given the context.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm to start posting the tiny fics as well just so I have them somewhere. Be prepared for an onslaught.

Chowder and Nursey have a ritual. Every time they have a test in one of their shared gen eds, they go back to the Haus afterwards and watch a Jane Austen movie. They’ve made their way through every version of Pride and Prejudice they know, at least one Sense and Sensibility miniseries, and Mansfield Park, and tonight it’s Persuasion, which neither of them have seen before (or read).

It’s after several minutes have gone by that Chowder becomes aware that at some point, his and Nursey’s fingers have laced together, and that Chowder was definitely not the one who initiated that.

He squeezes Nursey’s hand, and then when Nursey looks at him questioningly, Chowder raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, fuck off, I’m distressed,” Nursey says, with a hint of an embarrassed smile. He doesn’t let go, though, and Chowder doesn’t either.

“By the movie? Nursey, it’s Jane Austen.”

“She fell off the wall!”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

When it’s announced that indeed, Louisa whatever-her-last-name-is will be fine, Chowder says, “See?”

This time, it’s Nursey who squeezes his hand, and Chowder smiles back at him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a character study of Nursey.

nursey likes journaling.

his journal is unremarkable among the floods of other notebooks– that one over there is for a class he’s taking, that one is for jotting down scraps of ideas too small to go in this one over here, which is for beginnings, or that one over there, which is for works in progress. he copies everything he completes, carefully, in his best handwriting, with his nicest pen, into one notebook he hasn’t shown to anyone yet, and he probably won’t until it’s full. and there are more, there are so many more.

amidst all of that, nobody notices the plain composition book with a crappy pen perpetually stuck in it.

it’s for class, bitty is pretty sure. another notebook full of pieces that will get stitched together into poetry, chowder thinks. dex is sure it’s where nursey keeps his anger, dashed into lines that etch the page, and then closed and let go.

it’s kind of all of those things. the class is one where he studies himself, takes notes on how he feels, what he’s doing, what’s going on. and he puts pieces of himself into his poetry, all the time. and anger…

anger is something that usually finds its way into his journal. he lets it go there. he tries not to reread those passages, and when he does, he usually writes more.

he writes everything out, and he doesn’t let himself spare any detail. he doesn’t lie to his journal because that’s the first step in lying to himself. even if it doesn’t make sense, or it’s not in a logical order, he writes it. and then sometimes he rewrites it again, in a way that appeals more to his sense of order.

he’s wondered sometimes if he should hide it when he’s not writing in it. but then he looks at his handwriting, how the more personal and emotional and tough the topic is, the more his handwriting stretches one way and compresses in another, until it’s barely readable, unless you know what it’s meant to say.

he writes in his notebook, and closes it, and feels the kind of heavy calm that comes after tears. someone told him once that tears are the body’s way of releasing extra emotions. nursey thinks that’s an appropriate metaphor for this. he writes in his notebook, and closes it, and feels like he’s enclosed himself in these pages.

all the better for safekeeping.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From anon: Im calling you out, please write the Nurseydex fic where they've been dating but dex doesnt want to pay fines. Please please please

It starts simply enough.

On the first day, Shitty ( _ Shitty?) _ is laying out the rules, and when he starts going into the elaborate descriptions of fines for ‘varigated couple-y actions making the rest of us feel sad and alone’, Dex looks sideways at Nursey and mouths, ‘ _ No way.’ _

Nursey raises an eyebrow, but Dex doesn’t think their lip-reading skills are good enough to have a whole conversation, so he just mouths,  _ ‘Later,’ _ and Nursey nods.

When the tour of the Haus is over and they have time to go settle in, Dex and Nursey walk to the quad together. They both arrived a few days ago, taking the time to get to know the campus and the town around it, and Dex is glad for that because it means they have the time right now to discuss this whole thing.

“Listen,” he says. “We can’t get fined.”

Nursey’s expression of confusion is probably not one that was ever sculpted onto an ancient Greek statue, but if it was, Dex wouldn’t be surprised. “Why not? Is there some sort of loophole? I kind of zoned out, so...”

“No, I mean we need to not get fined. I’m not gonna do any stupid money things.”

“And we’ve already established that it would be a waste of my time to try to pay them for you, so that means no fines,” Nursey summarizes. “How, though?”

Dex sighs. “That’s the problem. The only solution I can think of is to pretend we’re not together. Like, Shitty used the word ‘ruthless’ at  _ least _ six times. If anyone from the team witnesses anything, I don’t think there’s a way to get out of the fine.”

“Okay, so we’ll pretend, then,” Nursey says. “On two conditions.”

“What?”

“We have to tell them at some point— but, like, it doesn’t have to be soon, and we need to be good enough at faking it that their reaction will be  _ hilarious.” _

“And we have to record it.”

“Great minds think alike.” Nursey nods decisively. “Okay. Operation Platonic begins now.”

*

They don’t mean to make it look like they’re fighting.

Really, it’s just that Nursey’s deadpan expression is a little too good and Dex flushes a lot— well, and Dex knows he comes off as mean sometimes. 

But then he gets a series of texts from Nursey.

**Nurse:** so i think we’re a little too good at this

**Nurse:** bitty started talking to me and i thought he was talking about this lax bro in my history class that we ran into at annies so i lowkey went off and then turns out he was talking about YOU bc chowder told him about how we were fighting all the time bc he thought if he talked to jack about it we wld get in trouble

**Nurse:** and like

**Nurse:** oh man, chowder, what a kind and pure soul but also no

**Nurse:** long story short bitty and chowder both think we hate each other and i may have accidentally contributed to that

**Nurse:** and i think bitty is trying to find you to talk to you about me and he now thinks i think you’re super conservative and shit

**me:** I’ll figure something out

**Nurse:** yeah ik you can bitch about anyone

**me:** Worst case I’ll draw from my reserves of bitching about lax bros as well

**me:** Might as well just roll with it

**Nurse:** wait that would be hilarious pls do it

**me:** I’ll try

Sure enough, a few minutes later Bitty pokes his head into the computer lab and asks to talk and, well, Dex does the best he can. He lets the rage from being stuck here working on his project for hours seep into his voice just a little bit, for effect.

**me:** Mission accomplished. Thanks for the heads up

**Nurse:** what did u say about me

**me:** bitched about your house and private school

**Nurse:** fair enough

**Nurse:** now we just gotta keep this going

*

“I literally cannot believe Ransom and Holster have never gotten fined for pet names,” Nursey says at one point.

“Yeah, but they both keep hooking up with what seems like the entire women’s tennis team,” Dex points out.

*

They manage for a while. When Bitty puts a ban on fines after being elected captain, they have a quick, silent discussion about maybe this being the reveal moment, but the time comes and goes and then fines are back.

The day that they both move into Lardo’s old room, as soon as the door is securely closed, Nursey whispers, “How the fuck are we going to do this?”

“They’re going to expect us to fight whenever we’re both in here,” Dex agrees. “Like, when are we supposed to sleep?”

So they concoct a plan as quietly as possible. 

In the last two years, they’ve both had their own rooms far from the Haus, where they’ve confined any mentions of their togetherness. 

But the Haus’s walls are thinner than they’d like and there’s so little personal space that there’s not a good way for them to really keep this room to themselves, especially since it connects to a shared bathroom.

The exception to all of those things about the Haus is the basement.

They can’t both move in, and there’s not really a living space down there, so that means it’s up to Dex to build something, and then they need to stage their fight, and honestly they’ve been running out of ideas, so when Nursey suggests building what is basically a tiny room inside their room and then being ‘invaded’, Dex says, “Sure, whatever. Let’s make my exit as bizarre and weirdly construction-based as possible.”

“Okay, but it has to look good. Like you were actually planning on staying in there.”

“Don’t worry. I got this. I have a flair for interior design.”

“You steal things from HGTV.”

“Same thing. Ask Ollie and Wicks where they got their ideas.”

They’re so busy chirping each other about HGTV that they don’t notice footsteps that pause briefly outside their door, then walk away.

*

Precisely one day after their basement fight, Dex and Nursey are cornered by Chowder in the stacks at Annie’s. (No, they were  _ not _ going to make out there, Nursey actually wanted a book.)

“You have some explaining to do,” Chowder says cheerfully.

“Huh?” Nursey says.

“Yup! Like how you were totally planning that fight and Dex moving to the basement and I heard you from the hallway, in case you were going to ask, and how you keep disappearing together and how Dex tried to hide Nursey’s hat when I went to see him in the basement but you did a terrible job of it by the way, and also you’re  _ literally holding hands right now.” _

“Uh, it’s a competition to see who has a tighter grip and also I... stole Nursey’s hat for a joke and didn’t want you to tell him where it was?”

The bottom half of Chowder’s face is smiling, but Dex can see his goalie face of utter confidence and mild bloodthirstiness sliding into view. “Nice try. Explain.”

“We didn’t want to tell anyone we were dating because of the fines,” Nursey blurts out, and then he says, “Sorry. I’m weak.”

“I was about to confess too, don’t worry,” Dex replies.

The goalie face is gone and regular Chowder is back, thank  _ God, _ and then he says, “So I’ll just pretend I never saw you here and go on my way! I was actually expecting something like, well, I don’t know what I was expecting but it was definitely going to be something stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks, Chowder,” Nursey says.

“You’re welcome!”

“But don’t tell anyone,” Dex says. “We’re in way too deep now and we want to film the dramatic reveal so it has to be planned.”

“Oh, let me know what I can do to help! I love dramatic reveals.”

“I think...” Dex starts.

“Yes?” Nursey prompts.

“I think that this is gonna be ‘swawesome.”

Chowder nods. “True.”

*

After the commencement ceremony, Chowder insists that they take pictures, first the three of them, then him and Nursey, then him and Dex, and then, just like they’ve planned, “You two have to take a picture too! You’re d-partners!” And then he adds, unscripted and completely seriously, “I will not let you leave without taking a picture together. Here, I’ll take it.”

The rest of the team is also there, because they’ve been taking pictures with the new graduates as well, so they have a ready audience for when Chowder takes his phone out and instead of taking a photo, quickly switches over to taking video. 

“Ready? One, two, three!”

And on three, as they’ve planned, Dex hands Nursey his diploma, dips him, and kisses him, and there’s a rousing chorus of “What the  _ fuck” _ from the rest of the team, and this is probably going to be the greatest video he’s ever been a part of in his life.


End file.
